Chastity (16 page)

    Conchita bit at her bottom lip. He could feel the shuddering within her as he whispered, "You make me feel good, Conchita… better than any other woman ever made me feel."

    Conchita's shuddering grew more pronounced. "That is want I want to do, Morgan. I want to make you happy."

    "We only have a little more time until the boys come back in."

    Conchita glanced at the door. Her eyes grew moist. "I love you, Morgan."

    
"… only a little more time."

    Morgan held his breath as Conchita lowered herself down upon him.

    Thunder boomed. Chastity stiffened on the driver's seat beside him, and Reed turned toward her with a frown. She was unnaturally pale, her gaze fixed, her rigid figure outlined against the rapidly darkening sky. Her knuckles white, she clutched her locket, barely seeming to breathe, and Reed's agitation soared.

    He must have been crazy to bring her with him! What in the world had ever made him think that this charade would work to his advantage?

    Reed steeled himself against the obvious. Chastity was terrified. He had not expected the fear he'd seen in her eyes when he drove up with the wagon. He noted the courage it took for her to climb up onto the seat beside him, and he felt the shudder that racked her when the wagon snapped into motion. He purposefully dismissed her anxious glances as the day progressed, forcing them from his mind as he sought to reconcile the passing terrain with the course Jenkins had noted on his map.

    Reed's jaw tightened. One day… maybe
two,
and he would be as close as he wanted to get to Morgan's door. The Indian mission was north of his hideout, but Reed's plan was simple. If he met up with Morgan or any of Morgan's men, he would pretend he had taken the wrong turn. His parson's collar and Chastity's obvious innocence would lend him the credibility he needed. He would linger only long enough to assess the situation and familiarize himself with the terrain and Morgan's camp. He would then proceed directly to the mission, where he would leave Chastity and his disguise behind.

    Then Morgan the thief and killer would succumb to the hunter.

    He owed Jenny that.

    That thought a hard, cold knot within
him,
Reed studied Chastity's pale face a moment longer. Her hand was clenched around her locket. Why did that habit disturb him? Where had he seen it before?

    Thunder rolled and lightning cracked overhead. The air grew so heavy that he knew it would only be minutes until the storm broke.

    Chastity shuddered.

    "What's the matter?" Reed asked. "Are you afraid of the storm?"

    Chastity blinked. Her hand dropped from her locket. "No."

    She was, damn it, and he had no time for childish fears! He offered gruffly, "You can sit in the back of the wagon if it starts to rain. You'll stay dry there."

    She shook her head as the first drops of rain fell.

    "Maybe you'd better. From the way things   look, there's going to be a downpour."

    Chastity's eyes jerked stubbornly to his. "I'm not afraid of getting wet."

    Reed studied her adamant expression. "It's senseless for you to sit here through the storm."

    "You're going to keep driving, aren't you?"

    Reed was puzzled by her resolution. "I have oilskins to keep me dry."

    "I'll share them."

    "You can't. Then we'll both get wet."

    "I don't want to sit in back."

    Thunder boomed again and the rain came down in earnest. Reaching for the oilskins behind the seat as the frigid drops pelted them, Reed ordered, "Get into the back of the wagon."

    "No."

    Rain pounded more roughly as he slipped on his protective garment. The drops darkened the fiery color of her hair and ran in glittering streams down her face. She was soaked within minutes but she did not move.

    "Get in the back of the wagon, Chastity!"

    Furious when she remained unmoving except for the tremors that shook her visibly, Reed pulled the team to a halt. Standing on the muddied ground beside her in a moment, he reached up and swept her from her seat despite her angry protests. He strode to the rear of the wagon and thrust her inside, pausing briefly to instruct her, with anger that was barely controlled, "I don't know what that was all about, but you're going to stay there   where it's dry until the rain ends, do you understand?"

    Raindrops beaded on the clear skin of her cheeks as Chastity returned his adamant stare. They followed a steady path downward, past the firm set of her jaw, along the slender column of her neck, disappearing at last in the soft, female flesh at her neckline. Reed swallowed tightly, forcing his gaze up at the sky as thunder crashed more loudly and lightning briefly lit the blackening expanse. Looking back at her, he said more softly, "Do you understand?"

    Chastity remained unmoving.

    She did not reply.

    Reed turned his back on her and returned to the driver's seat. Silently fuming, he whipped the team back into motion.

    It was raining.

    Conchita glanced out the window to see muddy pools rapidly forming in the corrals. Low male laughter turned her toward the men who were eating at the table a short distance away. She glanced at Morgan, where he sat at the head of the table, scooping up the last of the stew she had served. The men were conversing easily without looking in her direction.

    Conchita straightened up slowly as she assessed the men one by one. Turner, the oldest of the gang, was dark, bearded, and barrel-bellied. He was a terrible man, unclean in mind and in body. She had known many men like him before reaching her present advanced age   of seventeen years. He made constant attempts to touch her while Morgan's back was turned. She had kept a careful eye on him during Morgan's last trip to Sedalia. It was only the knife she carried concealed in a sheath on her thigh that had held him off on several occasions
and
Turner's realization that she would not hesitate to use it.

    Bartell was younger and only a little less foul. Short and balding, he was a braggart and a liar, who could not be trusted.

    Simmons was not much better.
Nor was Walker.
They were as black-hearted as the others, but Morgan preferred them as traveling companions when the situation demanded. The reason was obvious. They were afraid of him and would follow his orders without question.

    But Morgan was different from his men. Conchita's heart fluttered in her breast as a familiar agitation returned. He was young and handsome, his deep voice sweet music to her ears. She had loved him from the moment she saw him enter the cantina where she earned her living. Slenderly built, he was clean and well dressed, with shiny dark hair and a glowing, dark-eyed gaze. Dismissing all the other women who threw themselves at him when he entered, he had seen only her. And when he approached her, with a smile so beautiful and warm that it melted her heart, she was his.

    Conchita closed her eyes briefly as the memory of the moment again thrilled her. She had   known there would never be another man for her the moment he had first touched her flesh. She had silently made that vow, and when he had taken her north with him, she had not cared what some said about the life he led, or what they said he left behind him. And if she had come to know that there was a darker side of him, she told herself that nothing could be worse than losing him.

    Conchita glanced again at Morgan as he laughed at one of the men's jokes. He was calmer since the time they had spent together that afternoon. It made her proud that she was able to give him ease when he was in need. There were times when she sensed a change in him and she became frightened that he might grow tired of her someday. But that fear left her each time they made love and she knew that he was again hers alone.

    Conchita knew that the men considered her a fool because she lived to please Morgan. But she also knew that Morgan paid little attention to whatever those men said. And if Morgan did not always respond to her as she hoped he would, she did not allow herself to become disturbed. She did not wish to chance Morgan's displeasure.

    For the truth was that she would suffer anything to remain with Morgan. He had singled her out and raised her above the life she had ledthe only person who had ever held her above the others like her struggling to survive in a world where no one cared if they lived or    died. She would do anything for him.
Anything.

    Morgan turned toward her and Conchita took an unsteady breath. Her heart began a slow pounding when he stood up and approached her. She remained still as Morgan curled his arm around her waist, ignoring the men at the table as he whispered into her ear, "You were just what I needed this afternoon, Conchita."

    Morgan's words touched Conchita's heart. Sliding her arms around his neck, she whispered for his ears alone, "You are my joy,
querido
."

    She felt his body tighten when she pressed herself against him, and happiness stirred within her. She would bind Morgan to her with his need. She would do all she could to keep him hers.

    Feeling safety in his ignorance of her native tongue, Conchita whispered against his lips, "
Seremos juntos siempre, mi
amado
.
"

    Yes, they would be together always. She would have it no other way.

    
Rain pelting the canvas cover
over her head… the groaning creak of the wagon as it shuddered along the trail… the roar of thunder and streaks of lightning that lit the night sky…

    The nightmare had returned!

    Chastity stared at the canvas walls of the wagon where Reed had deposited her so unceremoniously an hour earlier. Rain hammered the trail unceasingly as the wagon plodded   steadily forward. She told herself over and again that this wagon was not the family wagon in which she had traveled with her sisters so many years ago. She reminded herself that despite the growing power of the storm, the present situation bore little resemblance to that fateful day when she was a child.

    But the sounds were so similar. The returning images were so clear. And the voices that trailed through her mind were increasingly vivid:

    ''
Can you hear me, sugar?
"

    
"Papa?"

    
"No, don't talk. Just listen. Mama and I are going to take the wagon across the river soon. It's going to be a rocky ride."

    
"But Mama said"

    
"Mama's going to drive the wagon while I lead the team. She won't be able to sit with you, but I don't want you to be afraid. Can I depend on you, sweetheart?"

    
"Yes Papa. I love you, Papa."

    
"I love you too, and I know my girls love each other just like I know they'll always look out for each other."

    
Later, Honesty's rasping voice:

    
"Papa's takin' us across the river now… to the doctor."

    
"Good, 'cause I'm sick."

    
"Me, too."

    
"Go to sleep."

    And Honesty's belated, final admonishment:

    
"Don't be afraid, you hear? Papa will take care of us."

    The pain within Chastity sliced sharply at her heart. No, she didn't want to remember anymore! It was too late to change what had happened and remembering was too hard.

    Thunder cracked, jolting Chastity to new rigidity. Lightning ripped across the sky, snapping her eyes wide as the tormenting memories threatened to return.

    No, she wouldn't listen not to the rain or the rush of the river! She wouldn't let the voices torment her either! She had had enough!

    Clapping her hands over ears, Chastity lay down on the pallet beneath her. Her heart hammering, her jaw tight, she closed her eyes.

    Jagged strips of lightning lit the night, followed by shattering sounds as the storm continued its relentless assault. Reed's expression was grim as he sat a short distance from where Chastity lay in the rear of the wagon. Surrendering to the darkness of the trail an hour earlier, he had drawn the wagon to a halt at last, grateful for the excuse to stop for the night. He had climbed into the rear of the wagon, ignoring the dull ache in his thigh as he stripped off his oilskins and shirt and put on dry clothes. His impatience with Chastity earlier in the day had gnawed at his conscience. He had known from the outset that Chastity had little experience with the wilderness. She was young, and he knew nothing could have prepared her for the awesome power being unleashed over their heads, or the feeling of   helplessness it could evoke in such an isolated place.